by Lori Wick
Amy was at the stove when he came in. Strangely, she did not have a greeting for him. Silas washed up in record time and went to her side near the stove. She was looking at a large pot and did not acknowledge his presence.
“Amy, how are you doing?” She did not reply or look at him. “Amy?”
“I can’t find my spoon.”
Silas picked up a large spoon that was sitting very near her hand. Amy’s head came up and, after she focused in on the spoon, her face broke into a huge smile.
Silas saw that her face was flushed and her eyes too bright. “Amy, I think you’re sick. Let me do this.” The smile turned instantly into a fierce scowl and Amy waved the spoon about as she spoke. “I can do it, Silas. It’s my kitchen.”
Silas watched as she thrust the spoon into the pot, nearly submerging her hand, and began to stir vigorously.
Silas stood in confusion. Amy was not acting at all like herself, and her speech was slightly slurred. His gaze swung away from her and his eyes caught something on the kitchen table. The large bottle of medicine was sitting open with a wet spoon beside it.
Silas walked toward the bottle with a sinking heart. His head jerked back in repulsion after waving the bottle beneath his nose. Silas was no judge of liquor, but if smell was any indication, the stuff was 90 proof.
Amy was drunk.
Silas quickly set the bottle down and returned to the woman at the stove. Her stirring had slowed down to a methodical movement that seemed to be hypnotizing her. He wondered how much she had taken.
Silas headed for Grant’s room. That girl needed to be in bed, and Silas needed some help if nothing more than advice. But Grant was sound asleep, out cold. Silas headed back to the kitchen in consternation.
He arrived to see Amy lift the pot and nearly scald herself. She righted the pot just in time, but Silas’ mind was made up. He gave her no time to protest as he took the spoon and pot from her and began to guide her out of the kitchen. But his touch was too light on her arm and she easily pulled away from him, saying as she did that she must finish supper. At least, that’s what it sounded like.
Silas tried to reason with her: “Amy, you’re sick and should be in bed.” But Amy chose to ignore him and tried to get back to the stove.
Silas’ next move was to get behind Amy. With his chest to her back and walking slowly, he got her as far as the living room before she turned around and Silas found himself hugging her. At any other time hugging Amy would have delighted him, but his skill with inebriated women was nonexistent and he just wanted to see her safely to her room.
Amy let out a little squeal when Silas gave in and swung her up into his arms. Her head swam and she threw her arms around his neck and closed her eyes.
She did not open them until Silas sat her down on the chest at the end of her bed. Silas hunkered down in front of her and Amy tried hard to concentrate on what he was saying. Everything felt so warm and fuzzy.
“Amy, you need to get ready for bed. I’ll get your gown if you tell me where it is.” Silas hated even this small intimacy, but he had no choice.
Amy continued to look at him with a small smile on her face, so Silas tried again. “Amy, sweetheart, please try.…”
“I love it when you call me sweetheart.” Amy’s smile grew to just short of a leer.
“Oh boy,” Silas thought, “I’ve got to get out of here or I’m going to kiss her, drunk or not.”
Silas’ hands flew to Amy’s shoes, removing them quickly. A fast search of the room produced Amy’s robe and nightgown from the hook on the back of the door. When he set the garments beside her, she informed him that some beast was wrapped around her waist. Silas unknotted the apron strings she had been demolishing and pulled her quickly to her feet.
He thrust the clothing into her arms and commanded, “Put these on, Amy. Now!” With that he exited the room, nearly slamming the door in his haste.
Silas leaned back against the closed door and prayed. He heard bumping sounds from in the room, and then Amy broke into song.
Silas rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and headed for Grant’s room. He was still very deep in sleep.
All was quiet in Amy’s room as Silas returned to stand outside the door. He waited a moment in indecision and then quietly opened the door.
Amy lay across the bed in her nightgown and robe humming to herself. She raised her head, and Silas could see she was very sleepy.
With utmost care, Silas pulled the covers back and lifted her into his arms. He tucked her within the blankets, robe and all. She was asleep before Silas could straighten. He stood looking at her a moment, wishing he could tell her what was in his heart, before quietly leaving the room.
21
The small copse of trees had seemed like a good hiding place the night before when running from an outraged farmer with a shotgun. But as dawn began to light the sky, the joints and muscles of both men were doubting the wisdom of their decision.
“You think it’s safe?”
“Yea, I just hope nobody found the horses.”
“If we’re gonna get shot at, I’m gonna ask for more money.”
“You just let me do the talkin’, little brother. You go shooting your mouth off, and we’ll be out of work fast.”
“Okay, okay, I just don’t like sleeping out of my bed. Makes me sore for days.”
“Stop whining. We got the money and that means we get paid. Come on, let’s get back to town.”
Silas moved slowly in an attempt to relieve the ache in his back, brought on by a night on the living room sofa. The piece of furniture was neither long enough nor wide enough to support his frame, and he had found little rest upon it.
The night before Silas had made sure that both bedroom doors were open. Amy had slept through the night, but Grant had stirred twice. Silas had seen to his comfort both times and once had given him more medicine.
Grant had shown no pity on Silas when he described Amy’s bout with the medicine. He laughed and told Silas that a man who had been allowed to stay the night in the barn a few years ago had given it to him. The man swore it would knock a cold or flu right out of your system.
Grant had not had any suspicions about the contents until his next cold. But it had worked so fast that he didn’t care what was in it.
Amy, to his knowledge, had never used it. But then, she rarely got sick. He had asked Silas to check on her then for his peace of mind. Silas had found her warm, but not alarmingly so. Knowing Amy was fine, Grant had gone back to sleep with the help of more medicine. Silas had returned to his temporary bed in the living room and asked God to heal both father and daughter quickly.
Now it was time to do the milking and, with a quick check on both his sleeping patients, Silas headed outside.
Amy stretched and squirmed under the heaviness of the bed covers. Something felt strange to her, but she was too sleepy to figure it out. Well, at least her head was clear. Last night as she was fixing supper she knew she had caught a cold along with her dad. She could not believe how fast her head had stuffed up.
On impulse, she had taken some of his medicine and, being unsure of the proper dosage, had drunk several tablespoons. Amy’s mind stopped in confusion then. The rest of the evening seemed rather vague.
No worry, really, she thought. It had obviously done the trick with as good as she felt. With a sweep of her arm, she threw back the quilts and swung her feet to the floor.
She stared down at her feet in surprise when she noticed she still had one stocking on. Catching sight of herself in the big oval mirror over her dresser, Amy saw that the extra weight in her bed had been her robe and that her hair was still pinned up.
A sudden vision of Silas carrying her through the door and then of him untying her apron at the foot of the bed made Amy’s eyes go wide. She began to notice small things. The curtains were not pulled closed and her clothes were thrown all over the room. And her Bible—it was closed. She always opened her Bible to the place where she was reading so s
he could reach right for it, first thing in the morning.
She reached for it now, and it somehow gave her comfort. “Oh God,” she prayed, “You know what I’m thinking, but it just can’t be true. Silas would never do that.”
Amy was by nature a levelheaded girl. She now used some of her logic to calm herself. She would go about her normal routine and simply ask Silas when she saw him.
Amy dressed, made her bed, and read her Bible. After she closed her father’s door to give him quiet, breakfast was the next step in her routine.
But all Amy’s coolheaded thinking flew out the window when Silas came in from milking. Before even washing up, he came toward her with a wide smile and asked how she felt.
To Amy’s embarrassment, she blushed a fiery red and blurted out, “Silas, how did I get to bed last night?”
Horror overcame her as Silas’ own cheeks turned pink and he stared down at the toes of his boots. “Oh no,” Amy’s mind protested.
When Silas looked up, he knew immediately what she was thinking. “No, Amy, no.” Silas was equally horrified. “I just helped you with your shoes and apron. You got yourself ready for bed. You were falling asleep on top of the quilts and I tucked you in. I swear that was all.”
Amy looked relieved but still embarrassed. “I guess Dad’s medicine is a bit strong.”
For the first time Silas saw humor in the situation, and his grin clearly showed his amusement. “You, Miss Nolan, were quite drunk last night.”
Amy eyed him warily and asked, “What did I say?”
“Ah, now that would be telling.”
“Silas Cameron,” Amy scolded, “how dare you tease me about something so embarrassing.”
Silas laughed then and assured her she had been a perfect lady. Amy did not look completely convinced, but she couldn’t have been too upset for she served him an enormous breakfast and they talked like old friends during the meal.
22
The next weeks were spent in long hours of planting. As long as there was light in the sky, Silas was in the fields. Amy was back to doing most of the milking.
Silas worked out a deal with the man from the cheese factory who always picked up the Nolan’s milk. The man would haul the cans—not Amy. Amy protested, but Silas was adamant.
Silas had been furious to discover the man had let her do all the hauling for the two weeks prior to Silas’ arrival. They argued about it one day after the man left.
“I can’t believe he let you haul those cans. Can he really be that lazy?”
“Yes, I’m afraid he can.”
“Did your dad know about this?”
“Honestly, Silas, Dad had enough on his mind. I am a big girl, you know, and I can take care of myself.”
This was the real rub, and Silas knew it. He wanted it to be his place to take care of her. The subject was dropped, but it continued to bother Silas.
Silas had finally read his letter from Frank Chambers. As expected, he had not accepted the refusal Silas sent before he came to Neillsville.
With the farm work and emotional changes going on in Silas’ life he had given very little thought to Frank’s offer, even though Christine had warned him of the man’s persistency. He needed to continue in prayer regarding that offer. Frank had said to take his time and think it over. With all the unsettled things in Silas’ life right now, he needed to do just that.
Silas’ relationship with Amy was good, if not as comfortable as it once was. Silas smiled wryly to himself at the different way a man thinks of his little sister and the way he thinks of the woman he wants for his wife.
Little things he had never noticed about Amy before were becoming very dear to him: the way she chewed her lower lip whenever she was anxious about something; the way her voice took on a childlike quality as she prayed, so trusting and sweet; her concentration and sparkling eyes whenever she played the piano. These and so much more made up the whole of Amy.
Amy. Amy Cameron. Silas had tried the name out loud one day in the barn when there was no one to hear but the cows. He loved the way it sounded, but not knowing if it would ever come to pass was disheartening. He tried not to dwell on it.
He petitioned God constantly to give him strength and wisdom in this situation where he felt so helpless. Silas was unable to see it right now, but this time in his life was bringing him closer and closer to God.
There were even moments when he felt God had forgotten him, but they were brief. For even amid the pain of wishing for a life with Amy and not knowing if he would ever have it, was a sweet, peaceful knowledge that God had not deserted him and that His will for Silas was perfect and complete.
23
Grant was getting stronger every day. Each evening he and Silas talked about the planting and Grant was able to give much advice and encouragement from his many years in the fields. He fretted some, too, at not being able to man the plow himself.
The difference in the men’s ages came home hard to Grant when Silas reported each night how much he was able to do in a day. Even with Grant’s best team, those days were behind him.
But truthfully, he was not really very envious. He just asked God to let him walk again. This he prayed for with his whole heart.
Doctor Schaefer had been pleased with how well Grant had come out of his cold, but was worried nevertheless. He told Grant he wanted to see him up in a chair, increasing the time each day as he felt stronger. Doc informed them that he had lost more patients from a bedridden state because of their chest filling up, than by deaths resulting directly from accidents such as Grant’s.
It was during one of these times with Silas in the field and Grant sitting in the living room that father and daughter were able to talk.
Amy had just walked some food and water out to Silas— the last he would get until he came in for supper. When she returned, Grant asked how things were going. Knowing how close it was to milking, he was surprised when Amy settled into a seat.
“It’s going well, I think. Silas can sure cover a lot of ground in a day.”
“Yes, he’s a lot faster than your old dad.”
“I never think of you as old, Dad,” Amy said softly and then fell quiet. Grant waited and hoped. Amy would never know how long he had prayed for this time.
“There is something I have wanted to talk to you about, Dad, but I’m afraid you’ll be upset.”
“A parent has to be careful not to make any promises with a statement like that, but I will hear you out.”
Amy studied the man across from her. His sandy-brown hair was liberally streaked with gray. There were laugh lines at the corners of his eyes, and his skin was a permanent shade of red from years in the sun.
He was a wonderful father, and Amy knew he loved her dearly. Yes, he would hear her out; he’d always been fair.
Without introduction Amy began. “Uncle Evan asked me to come into town and live with them.” Amy paused, but Grant said nothing. Other than a slight lift of his eyebrows, his expression didn’t alter.
“I knew when he asked me that I didn’t want to, but I was so surprised I didn’t say a word. And then the last time I was with him, he said something that really bothered me. He said if my father really loved me he’d let me go. I’ve known for a long time that there was no friendship between you two, but I can’t stand the thought of having Uncle Evan believe the reason I’m saying no is because you won’t let me go.”
“Should you say no?” The question was spoken so calmly that Amy could only stare at her father.
“You mean you want me to go?”
“I want you to be wherever God leads you. As much as I’d miss you, I know Evan and Bev would take good care of you.”
“But Dad, what about you? Who would take care of you?” “Amy, honey, you must not build your life around me. What did you think would happen to me when you and Thomas moved into your own home—that I would wither up and die?”
“Well no, but, Dad, I just figured that the breakup with Thomas was God’s way of saying
, ‘Stay here and take care of your father.’”
“Amy, do you really think me that selfish? I’ve been where you are—young and ready for love, and I found that love. Your mother and I loved one another deeply and when God gave us you, there wasn’t anything more in the world we would have asked for.
“I want you to experience the things that I have—marriage and family. I can’t imagine a man wanting a more wonderful wife than you would be. And when it comes to babies, well I’ve seen your face light up when you hold them at church.
“You know I’ll respect your decision about living in town or not, and there are no words to describe how much I would miss you if you go. But Amy, do not, do not base your decisions on a need to stay here and take care of me.”
“But it’s not just that. This is a good life here. I love it on this farm.”
“You’re right—it is a good life, we’ve been blessed many times over. But God may have a completely different plan for you, Amy, and I’ll not hold you back.”
There was silence in the room for a long time. Grant’s compassion for his only child was great and, even though his words had shocked her, they needed to be said.
Amy stood. “I best get to the barn.” Grant nodded. Amy hesitated and then walked to his chair. They hugged long and hard. “This is the only home I’ve ever known.”
“I know, honey, and I’m not pushing you out, but please don’t close your eyes to what God might have for you beyond these acres.”
Amy stepped back and held her father’s hand. She squeezed gently and said, “Thanks, Dad.” On these words she moved for the door.
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